Wonderful
by Atarashii
Summary: See Wil go insane. (for lack of a better summary)


**Title**: Wonderful  
**Author**: Atarashii [chibikits(at)livejournal(dot)com]  
**Series**: Fire Emblem  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genre**: Angst, Tragic  
  
**Warning**: Implied character death and implied shounen-ai.   
  
**Disclaimer**: Fire Emblem and its associated character do not and never will belong to me. The plot of this fic, however, does.   
  
**Author Notes**: There's not much in which I can say about this fic ... originally, it started off (as you can tell) with Wil being real indepth on his thoughts/feelings ... then the rest of the fic wrote itself, and Wil ... er ... lost it, pretty much. It might seem as if things jump to one subject to another, but that was on purpose. He's ... er ... distraught, and not thinking all that "sane"-ishly.   
  
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**Wonderful**   
  
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There once was a time in life when I believed in faerie tales and happy endings. For one reason or another I lived on the belief that all evil could - would - be destroyed, and that all good would be rewarded.   
  
There once was a time when I believed in sunshine and rainbows, and the idea that true love would prevail.   
  
I cannot say that I believe in those things, anymore. For even the most optimistic of people feel despair, and feel the weight of reality crashing down.   
  
Perhaps in the end, the fault of what has happened was mine, and all the blame was meant to be placed on my shoulders.   
  
I don't know, nor can I say that I really care, anymore.   
  
I'm just sick ... sick of it all.   
  
Sick of pretending that everything's going to turn out alright, when it's evident that it won't.   
  
Sick of being the person that everyone else is used to seeing ... someone that I'm not.   
  
Sick of ...   
  
Sometimes, I cannot help but wonder ...   
  
What would they think if they were to see me like this ... I wonder if they would even care.   
  
I doubt it, though.   
  
But, I wish. I wish that for once someone would come across me, when I'm like this ... and ask if I'm alright.   
  
Then again, if someone were to ask, what would I say?   
  
Knowing me ... the other me ... I would just smile, and tell them that I'm just fine; that there's no need for them to worry.   
  
I don't like people to worry about me. I guess, it could be said that I don't feel that, well ... I don't feel that I deserve the worry others might give.   
  
Because I know I'm not worth worrying over.   
  
In the end, all I am is worthless ... perhaps, in the end, that was the truth in which I tried to hide from myself, in vain.   
  
Many times have I heard others talk about how the truth hurts; after all, in many cases it is the truth in which people fear the most. I, for one, would have to agree with that now ... for, there was once a time in which I thought I could handle the truth, but ...   
  
I thought he loved me, just as much as I loved him. The love I had for him was unmeasurable, and it was due to such love that I would give up anything - everything - just to ensure his happiness. Even if one of the things I needed to give was my life.   
  
How was I to know that in the end, the one thing in which I had to give was the one thing in which I so desperately wished to cling to?   
  
How was I to know that in order for him to be happy, that I would have to give up all 'claim' I had.   
  
He never loved me. I loved him, but he never truly loved me.   
  
I was a fool, just like all the others call me.   
  
I was a fool to believe that true happiness could be mine.   
  
I was a fool to fall in love, and because of such foolishness ...   
  
He is happy now, though. I guess that is all that truly matters. After all, I would give up anything for him to be happy, right? Right.   
  
Even though his happiness is without me, he is happy.   
  
His happiness is all that matters, in the end.   
  
His happiness, and the happiness of all those around me.   
  
He might not speak of it, but I know he is happy.   
  
She is happy.   
  
He is happy, and so is she.   
  
They are happy together.   
  
I am alone, but that does not matter, for he and she is happy.   
  
Together.   
  
Happiness.   
  
His eyes were a lovely shade of green. Not quite the shade of the grass, but somewhat darker. But lovely all the same.   
  
Green which matched the colour of his hair.   
  
Hair which I loved to run my fingers through. It was soft hair. Soft like silk.   
  
She has green hair, too. Her eyes are also green.   
  
Perhaps he left because he could not stand the colour of my eyes?   
  
Brown is dull, although it can also be nice.   
  
My hair is the same colour as my eyes, although its tinged with red.   
  
Red ...   
  
Red is going to stain the dirt, darkening the brown colour to a darker shade.   
  
Brown.   
  
Plain compared to green.   
  
No wonder he left.   
  
No wonder he would rather her than me.   
  
It did not help matters that she learned to use a bow, as well.   
  
She can use both a bow and a sword.   
  
Like him.   
  
The only weapon I can use is a bow. But I can use it well.   
  
Being an archer is not as easy as some people tend to think at first.   
  
One cannot neglect his equipment. Especially not the arrows.   
  
It takes careful work and care to make certain that the arrows will smoothly fly once released into the air.   
  
For them to successfully hit their target, the tips need to be sharp.   
  
Sharp enough so that ...   
  
The metal tip feels cool against flesh.   
  
So cool ... perhaps ...   
  
Dig it in. Pierce the flesh.   
  
Slowly, but surely.   
  
Red.   
  
I cannot see what others dislike about it.   
  
It is beautiful.   
  
Red.   
  
Such a beautiful shade of red.   
  
Not as beautiful as his eyes, though.   
  
Such a pretty shade of green ...   
  
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**C'est le fin.**


End file.
